Predicting her moves wasn't quite accurate -- he hadn't been able to do that properly in the Bleed. The nature of time on the ship when it burrowed through dimensions made that sort of insight nearly impossible. It was just reading, reading and inevitability.

Still, she was making him exert himself more, now, and that was all to the good. Between his free palm and the staff held propped in his hand with just his thumb, parallel to his arm, he struck quick counterblows to her forearms. There was almost no strength behind his motions, just leverage; he fouled her arms off each other or knocked them wide by fractions of inches. He did, at last, take a step backwards to compensate for the way she ducked around to hit his back, but he turned immediately, redefining the battle along a new axis as he faced her.

No strength, not even particular speed. Skill, experience, and knowledge.